I'm fascinated with the people who are fascinated with Elvis. In case you've been in a cave for the last week, you must know that Aug. 16, 2007, was the 30th anniversary of the King's death. For years Elvis' birth and death have been commemorated with weeks of Elvis movies and documentaries but the auspicious occasion of the passing of 30 years since his passing has reached a media crescendo.
The TV morning news shows have been showing crowds of people braving record heat to pay tribute to Elvis at Graceland. As I write this, the release of Lisa Marie Presley's video duet of "In the Ghetto" with her father is eagerly awaited.
I've never been an Elvis fan - "fan" being short for fanatic - but I checked out a 25th anniversary special on TV this week where they rounded up Elvis' old band members and singers to create a new concert. I've eaten up those documentaries where fanatics made shrines to supposed Elvis warts and toenails and impersonators perform as the 6-year-old Elvis, the female Elvis, the Mexican Elvis, the white jumpsuited Elvis of assorted sizes as well as the sleek, black leather-clad Elvis.
But I still don't see why people are so crazy about Elvis. What's the attraction? My sister Annette always loved Elvis so I made the conclusion that she carries an Elvis gene that I don't.
The other day I asked my sister about when our parents took her to see Elvis on her 13th birthday, Aug. 30, 1971, at what was probably still the International Hotel in Las Vegas.
"He was bigger then - the Big Elvis. Every song he sang I knew the words. My favorite was 'Kentucky Rain,'" Annette said.
"I remember like it was yesterday. I wanted to see him so bad. I couldn't believe Dad got us in. He really had to grease somebody's palm to get us so close to the stage.
"I was in awe about it. Mom and Dad said his music drowned him out but for me, it was the best."
Both Annette and our mother said they were packed in like sardines in that showroom on Labor Day weekend 26 years ago. They both remembered a woman in spike heels who walked over people to try to throw herself up on the stage.
"Annette could have had one of those scarves Elvis threw but that woman with the heels grabbed it," Mom said.
"Dad and I remembered Elvis in the beginning when he had a very nice voice," said my mother who was a teenager when Elvis first made the scene in 1955. "But at the show we saw, he was so overweight and sweating. His backup singers sang louder than him because he lost his voice. At one time he was so good."
Mom said she and Dad were glad they were able to take Annette to the show even though he wasn't at his best.
"She got all gussied up to see this has-been singer," Mom said. "She could only see the fact that it was Elvis and she got to tell everyone that she went to see him."
I told my sister I saw Elvis as a tragic figure. Did it seem to her that he was going through the motions in his performances?
"I appreciated going to that show back then," Annette said. "But later in his life Elvis didn't seem to be happy. He looked like he'd rather be at home eating those peanut butter and banana sandwiches."
Maybe my sister carries a recessive Elvis gene.
-- Sharlene Irete is People Editor at The R-C .
